


The Daft Idiot

by solaireplz



Series: Fools in Armour [1]
Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls I
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Stalker!Lautrec, blowjob, everyone seems to want a piece of that ass and lautrec doesn't like that one bit, lautrec is a jerk as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-16
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-08-24 10:24:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16638152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solaireplz/pseuds/solaireplz
Summary: The Chosen Undead is an idiot and Lautrec doesn't know why it bothers him.





	1. Daft Idiot

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Lautrec has a canon-typical graphically violent mind :P  
> Nothing too intense though.

\- Thank you, truly. And now, I can get back to work... Kehehe...

Lautrec couldn't help the dark laugh which escaped his mouth upon being freed. Some would be a bit worried with Lautrec's reaction, but the undead knight who freed him merely glanced in his general direction and then left without a word. 

Lautrec raised his brow puzzlingly. He was sure he would have disturbed the Undead somewhat but they didn't seem concerned... Then again, with their helmet covering their face, whether they made a face of worry or scorn under their helm, Lautrec didn't know. Honestly, it shouldn't matter. The Knight of the Goddess does not concern himself with the opinions of others.

Yet...

Their obvious lack of interest in him irritated Lautrec to no end. 

-

Lautrec found his eyes trailing after the silent undead on many occasions. If the Chosen Undead noticed, they didn't care. 

The gold armoured knight sat near the bonfire and watched silently as they interacted with the shy pyromancer. The doe-eyed freak was teaching the Chosen Undead pyromancies, but with how much they stammered every word, it was a wonder how the Undead managed to learn anything. At one point the Undead called him 'Master Laurentius' unironically and the pyromancer himself seemed close to bursting into flames.

\- Please, friend. Just Laurentius is fine!

The Chosen Undead tilted their head puzzlingly at that but abided nonetheless. If that was slight rue that momentarily passed the pyromancer's face, the Undead probably didn't notice. The daft fool.

Lautrec entertained the look of surprise and betrayal on their face if they were to kill the pyromancer right there and then. If he didn't know the Undead was just as strong or stronger than him he might have. 

 

-

 

With a tug, he felt himself being summoned across worlds. Well this is interesting... 

Lautrec slowly rose up through the linking between worlds, and noted that he had been summoned to the world of the Chosen Undead. The Undead bowed courteously. Heh.

So they most likely want help with the dragon by the waterfall. Just the two of them? It'll be tough but- and as if on que, the eye-numbingly bright golden idiot circled around a pillar to come into their view. 

The idiot - Solaire, he was called, did his signature pose in greeting. Lautrec rolled his eyes beneath his helm. If that idiot weren't as powerful as he is, Lautrec would have killed him and taken his humanity a long time ago.

To Lautrec's surprise, instead of ignoring the sunny knight as he expected them to, the Chosen Undead returned Solaire's greeting. And did they just... was that a laugh?

Out of habit, Lautrec crossed his arms.

Gah. Idiots, the lot of them. Of course they'd find a fellow idiot to... With the obvious amicability the sun knight was shining through his iron helm, it wasn't hard to derive what the man thought of the Chosen Undead. 

And if the Undead noticed, they certainly didn't seem to mind how the warrior of sunlight was so casually leaning in to make contact with them.

Lautrec suddenly felt a boiling need to gouge something's eyes out. To kill and maim. Split open stomachs and pull out innards- tearful eyes begging for mercy- the warmth of humanity in his hands- the feel of flesh, long suppressed moans, utterly breaking the unyielding-

 

The Chosen Undead decided to walk down the stairs and enter the arena right then. The sunlight warrior immediately followed suit. Lautrec woke from the strange trance and silently grumbled to himself. After a few seconds of collecting himself, he stepped through the fog wall with his own weapons drawn.

 

-

 

When they meet again, it's at the firelink shrine. 

The Chosen Undead was... messy, to say the least. Probably went to that shit-infested town but cowered back. Lautrec almost pitied the sorry soul, if he didn't find their lack of emotion as they interacted with the Firekeeper unsettling. So they are hollow then. After observing the Undead for so long, now he could tell when the undead was hollow. 

The Undead silently nodded their head at Lautrec and headed up the stairs to reverse their hollowing. Lautrec was glad, he hated it when the Undead was...

What? No, he couldn't care less about the damn idiot. Gods, he should be farming humanity for his Goddess! What is he doing, just sitting around?!

When the Chosen Undead came down the stairs again Lautrec was ready to leave. He's found the way within Sen's Fortress. He will make for Anor Londo. As for the Firekeeper... Hm... 

Lautrec glanced at the Chosen Undead. They were kind to the girl. Unnecessarily so. She couldn't even speak, what good would-  
Then again, the Undead was not much of a talker either, heh.

The Chosen Undead silently waved at the Firekeeper once more. Taking his chance, Lautrec was about to bid farewell to the Chosen Undead- 

The undead just ignored him and walked past.

Paying no mind to the bewildered Carim knight, they made a beeline to the lift. Something raged within Lautrec's mind. Some dark and base emotion. As the lift creaked and the Undead made their way down to New Londo, Lautrec turned to the helpless Firekeeper.

 

-

 

Lautrec wasn't done just yet. He had to directly stab them in the back at least once. Surely his raging mind would calm then? 

He knows their style- they defeat every enemy in their path to ensure they always have a means of retreat if things go sour. 

Which made it perfectly safe and easy to trail them. Plan in hand, Lautrec was sure he could take them by surprise with enough patience.

However, when Lautrec went down to the flooded city, he felt something was... off.

No sounds of hollows.

Indeed, all the hollows around the lift area were strewn about on the ground, neatly killed in a single strike. Lautrec shivered slightly. They cut through muscles and bones like paper... they sure are strong as hell. If he doesn't overwhelm them or catch them off-guard it will be difficult to win against the Chosen Undead.

But... These things usually weren't hostile so why would they bother...?

Sounds of water splashing.

Slowing his footsteps and silencing his movement, the Carim knight carefully made way to the source of the sound. It wasn't unusual to hear the sound of water sloshing about, but that sound was clearly man-made.

Lautrec leaned on the wall which gave him good cover. What is the Undead doing? Attempting to drown hollows? They could be cruel and experimental if they set their mind on it. 

 

The Chosen Undead's armour glinted a short distance from them. Their weapon and shield lay a short distance from them on dry land, and they were...

They were taking off their armour. 

Lautrec suppressed a gasp. Indeed, the muck of Blighttown is disgusting but to wash here... hah! They always were a fucking nutter, the daft idiot!

First was their helm. Curious, Lautrec squinted but their body was turned opposite to his direction, so Lautrec couldn't see their face. Next, their gauntlets. The Undead procured a cloth and wet it in the shallow water they were standing in. Wiping the gauntlets somewhat they cast it aside onto the dry land. And next... 

Slowly, the Undead undid the clasps of their armour, one by one. Lautrec tried to stay still despite the growing discomfort in his armour. Indeed, this scene will forever be seared into Lautrec's memory, and in nights fraught with distant memories and regret, he would palm himself to their thoughts. 

The Undead's skin was mostly smooth but marred with scars here and there, no doubt from the gruesome battles the undead had to endure in this land. They waded deeper into the water, quickly dipping themselves in the water before rising out.

They were dripping wet now, their hair was damp and darkened with water, and fat droplets dripped from its end, and lazily trailed down their back, the water kept dribbling down, down, and...

His armour clinks just then, and the Chosen Undead whips around, panic apparent on their face. This is the first time he sees their face, and Lautrec wonders why they don't reveal themselves more often. 

Lautrec then realises that their weapon and shield is far from them, flesh exposed with no armour to protect it, and they are well and truly defenceless at the moment. 

No better opportunity. 

Lautrec steps into their sight and is about to lunge in and slice them in half when they see their fucking face. 

That expression of utter trust and relief. 

And he despises how he almost revels in it. But he is a Knight of the Goddess. He cannot. 

Then they approach him. Their flesh bare and exposed. Lautrec's grip on his shotel tightens involuntarily, but they only pick up the armour they had discarded. They cover themselves with the tunic they wear under their armour. The Undead is almost sheepish, dressing themselves as Lautrec watches them hungrily. If they notice, they do not say. But most likely, they don't even know. The daft idiot.

When they're done, they thank him for keeping watch over them. Without the helmet to mask their face and voice, the sincerity and amiability of the statement holds true and bright. A bit late, they realise their face is bare, going by how they scramble to get their helm on when they see it lying on the ground. 

What a fucking idiot.

 

But the betrayal is already done.


	2. Just a big misunderstanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chosen Undead thinks.

Perhaps this land isn't so cursed after all.

That is the thought which crosses their mind after coming across not one, but three kind souls in such a short time. 

The Chosen Undead distantly remembers the hatred and scorn people treated them with before they were locked away in the asylum. 

Undead were not welcomed anywhere, and rightfully so. Considering how many great kingdoms such as Balder and Berenike fell to the undead curse, people had every right to fear them. However that did not lighten the aching in their heart when the first response to their horribly gravelly voice - telltale sign of hollowing along with their withered skin- was disgust or outright hostility. 

So, when the sunlight warrior greets them as if they were a normal human being- Solaire of Astora, he said with a voice so full of friendliness it almost ached to even think about- 

They almost think that this is the answer they've been seeking. 

-

After finding the shortcut and reversing their hollowing they think back upon their encounter with the sunlight warrior. A sudden mix of emotions kick in and they can't help but scream silently under their helm. It was as if a great dam was clogging up their feelings and now that they were human again, all of it was rushing through them at once! 

Why is it that they act like a complete and utter... just what is it with being hollow?! 

Hopefully the knight doesn't think ill of them...

-

Lautrec of Carim, he introduced himself. The Chosen Undead stared silently at the knight. He had a nice voice. They wondered how it would sound if they were to choke him to near death and back. Would it go deeper? More gravelly? Would that be possible? He had such a nice voice... They wondered how he would look under the armour, would he-

Then the gold-armoured knight spoke again, pleading them to free him. The Chosen Undead paused their thoughts and considered the request. A reward, huh... maybe...

'We should help one another on this lonely journey... could it be mere chance we met in this land brimming with hollows?'

...The Chosen Undead opened the door to the man's cell reluctantly. The man laughs. It's good that they're happy.

What a shame...

-

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck. Hollowing! Gods damn it! 

This is why they didn't talk when possible. If they had said any of that to the gold-armoured, deep-voiced knight then... 

They slam their helmeted face into the wall repeatedly. If they look like one of those mad hollows, so be it! Ahhhhhhhh!! Kill them now!

-

If they are avoiding the Carim Knight, he probably doesn't notice. Or doesn't care, the Undead thought bitterly. He is a devoted man, 'servant to the Goddess Fina'. He would never even... 

They don't stand a chance. 

 

They would have wallowed in their self-pity longer, but the sunlight warrior came into view just then. They waved their arms excitedly in greeting, and the undead chuckled helplessly. A tingling warmth spread through their body, and they were glad that their armour was covering their face and body. 

 

-

 

The man is probably judging them harshly under their helm. 

The Chosen Undead might have mumbled some excuse, but they were out of their wits at the moment. Its not like they had any in the first place so that's a lot of lack of wits.

But where else would they wash out the muck of Blighttown, the only other water source was the well and... wait.

Darkroot Garden. 

They should have gone to darkroot garden! Curses!

They dressed as quickly as they can. The man merely stood stock still as they did so, facing their direction. Probably looking out for the stupid undead. Making sure nothing sneaks up behind... And judging them, most likely. Did they mention the judging? Yep. Definitely judging... 

Its a good thing the Undead has their helm on to hide their expression, they thought sheepishly. Once done, they muttered a sincere thanks to the Carim Knight.

...Ah fuck is that their helmet on the ground.

 

-

 

Disgust and outright hostility is something they are very well used to. 

So it makes sense they wouldn't be knowledgable to hostility hidden to the naked eye... After all, they let Patches get a score on them, and apparently every person in Firelink Shrine knew he was a bad apple on first sight... When Lautrec heard that they let him kick the Undead down a cliff, the man laughed like no other. Then he scowled and huffed harshly. No doubt judging the Undead for their gullibility...

Lautrec.

How long has he been labouring that hidden hostility, they wonder. 

Or was it because of what happened down in New Londo?

Were they that hideous?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solaire gets a bit of screen time this chapter... wait.. writing time..? . uhh.. anyway yeah. 
> 
> Though Lautrec is the main relationship so... don't put too much hope in Solaire ya'll.


	3. The Sunlight Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Chosen Undead indulges.

\- Hah...

The Chosen Undead sighed blissfully, as they plopped down heavily next to the knight of sunlight. Solaire slightly blushed under his helm. That sigh sounded almost... sexual, but that was probably the sunlight warrior imagining things. He really had to put a rein on his desires!

The Chosen Undead had just reversed their hollowing, and now that they felt safe, they were casually shirking off their gauntlets and the leather gloves beneath it as well. Progress, the knight thought sunnily. They seldom took off their armour, and ever since they met them again in Anor Londo, they seemed even more withdrawn than usual.

They were definitely avoiding any contact at first -a severe regression from their previous encounters, the knight of sunlight thought sadly- but with time, as they continued to explore this City of Gods, they became more and more hungry for contact and human interaction.

And Solaire was only happy to oblige.

Distantly, some part of him whispered the fragile and transient nature of their relationship, but he knew better than to ignore the present in fear of the future. One day, the flames will fade and so will he and they, but for now, let them burn brightly.

\---

Their hands were quite sensitive to say the least. Solaire squeezed their hand and then habitually brushed the area between their index and middle finger.

The Chosen Undead suppressed a moan that threatened to spill from the sudden sensation. Oh Gods, just holding hands shouldn't be a big deal. Why were they so...

They wanted this, and the knight was indulging them on their weak desires. They shouldn't abuse his kindness any further than they already have.

But they already have, didn't they- every night, every solitary moment, plagued with what they'd do to him, do with him, then they are reminded of their encounters with the Carim Knight and they should know better than to-

The sunlight warrior distantly brushes his thumb against the back of their hand. The silently blushing Undead tilts their head to his side, and find the sunlight warrior looking at them inquisitively.

\- ...Are you alright?

The Undead remained silent at that inquiry. Their kindness... It almost hurt. They knew they were wasting his time making him stay with them for so long. Why were they so selfish?

Before they let their self-hatred swallow them again, the knight leans in, and they feel their kind eyes burning into them, and feel a heat spreading from their groin. Still that kind-hearted inquisitiveness. The Undead breathed heavily. ...If only they could keep those eyes forever.

The Undead moves instinctually, and his legs lightly brushed against their own, and taken by a sudden impulse, the Undead instinctually whispers a breathy "Please."

Solaire touches the clasp of their helm.

With shaking hands, they also touch his helm, and the Undead almost lets him see- lets him open them up and have his way with them. And they desperately want him to, but...

\- I... The helmet...

The man's touch pauses. Always so considerate, the Undead thinks fondly. That's why...

\- The helmet stays on.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoo is that a sex scene coming up!! :DDD  
> I'm so sorry good readers... but next chapter is Lautrec again! Sorry!
> 
> Solaire smut... it may come... but only, later.


	4. Chance Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet again.

For a while Lautrec focuses on gathering humanity for his Goddess Fina.

Thoughts of a certain undead do tend to worm its way into his mind, but he quickly pushes those aside as best he can. For now he uses the help of two white phantoms to dispose of the invaders that make their way into his world- usually blue phantoms seeking vengeance from those killed by him. However, they don't stand a chance with the three of them circling in on them in such an open arena. Heh.

Lautrec decides he'll collect a few more humanity from the helpless souls and then be on his way.

-

When another blue invader emerges into the cathedral Lautrec barely registers the familiarity. Being summoned or invading as a phantom tended to blur the distinctive features an undead had in person, and if there was grim recognition and betrayal they had upon their face, he couldn't see it through their closed helm.

Its only when the blue phantom cleaves his ally mage in two that Lautrec feels a slight sense of familiarity along with growing unease at the changing tides of battle. The other phantom is already scared shitless at the display and its not long before they fall to the Chosen Undead's blade.

But Lautrec is still a knight after all, and takes that moment as an opportunity to stab the Undead from behi-

Lautrec's shotel glances off their shield and his form becomes open due to the parry. Shit.

Momentarily, their eyes meet his.

The Chosen Undead's eyes shine with some emotion he cannot understand, and their blade falters. And before they have time to recollect themselves, Lautrec instinctively delivers a kick square in their stomach and rolls away from them.

The Undead staggers, and immediately, the guilty knight's body slams into the undead, and they are pushed down onto the ground, their backplate hitting the cathedral floor and their helmeted head bouncing off the stone. If the Undead's head weren't protected, it would have resulted in a severe concussion.

When the undead comes to from the shock, they realise the Carim Knight's shotel is upon their throat.

At this distance and angle, the Carim Knight would easily be able to dislodge their head with a single push of their blade.

Yet this time, it is Lautrec who feels his blade falter.

  
-

  
The two stay that way for a few moments, both breathing heavily from the battle. The Chosen Undead is suppressed beneath him and makes no move to escape as of yet. Lautrec thinks they can feel the heat rising from the Chosen Undead through the layers of cloth and armour. Impossible.

Suddenly, Lautrec's mouth waters at the thought that they have them at his mercy. The powerful determined undead who cuts through hordes of knights and hollows on a basis. The Undead who executed two seasoned phantoms and almost him as well in a 3-on-1 battle.

Lautrec's body leans down, and he instinctively searches for those eyes hidden beneath their helm. Through the narrow slits, he does find it.

Just as he remembers, they're fucking beautiful.

And he realises he wants to see _more_.

 

His hand moves towards the clasp of their helm, and only then does the Undead come back to life. They gasp, and with a shaky breath, their hands come up to stop his own, but the Carim Knight presses his blade further into their throat, to once more alert its presence to them. A wordless threat drawing out beads of blood which stops the Undead in their tracks. In truth, there is no blood. Only a tiny wavering of their form where the blade touch as if a solid wall of fog dissipates. They are only a phantom after all, and their wounds do not bleed.

Even the pain of death is dulled in phantom form, and there is nary a consequence to dying as a phantom. For a phantom stuck in a difficult position, it would be much easier to let their assailant kill them and try again.

Yet the Chosen Undead _fears_.

Of what, they are not sure.

They had strong of will and strong of arms, but their heart was weak.

Even Chosen Ones can break.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know what's coming up next :D


	5. Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They indulge again. 
> 
> Explicit Content in this Chapter!

 

The Guilty knight finally lifts up their helm and reveals their face. The Chosen Undead is petrified, their eyes wide and frozen in fear.

Lautrec is both unsettled and horribly aroused at their reaction. Either they realised what he's about to do to them and are afraid, or it has something to do with how they never take their helm off. He distantly hoped for the latter.

Lautrec swallowed heavily as they took in the Undead's wondrous eyes and reflexively waded his hand through their hair. He still had his gauntlet on however, and sadly, their hair wavers like a fog at his touch. They were still a phantom after all, Lautrec thought bitterly. Yes, a phantom that had come to kill him...

Surely, that warrants some punishment.

  
As for the Undead, the lack of outright disgust to their form when he took off their helm eased the Undead none, for who knows what silent emotions and thoughts were held beneath the Carim Knight's cold metal helm. But when the man didn't stop, when he started to caress their hair like a lover would... A faint hope -along with a strange burning desire- blossoms in their heart. That did not stop them from covering their face in shame though. But now...

The Knight discards his gauntlets for what he is about to do next.

-

The Carim Knight pushes against them again, and they feel their defenses give in to his insistent fingers.

Armours are generally difficult to get off as well as being difficult to wear.

Especially if it is not one's own armour, well... It could take more than a few minutes to get just one part on or off.

So how did the Carim Knight know how to undo theirs so quickly?

Somewhere along the line Lautrec had discarded the shotel by their throat to focus on brazenly exposing the Undead. However the Undead, being transfixed with the act being done to them, could only continue to suppress their shameful moans as those deft fingers undid the laces and clasps which tied the Undead's armour together upon their body. Occasionally, those fingers would dip and touch somewhere not metal, and the Undead had to bite down to stop a moan from ripping its way out of their throat. They felt far too sensitive, and they weren't even in human form. If the knight were to fully appraise them in their human form... The Undead shivered at the thought.

All too fast, the last piece of metal holding their upper part of their armour together gives way, and their upper body is left completely exposed save for the tunic they wear beneath it. The knight growls like a hungry beast, and he rips into the piece of cloth, finally exposing their bare flesh. The knight's rough fingers now roam their body, feeling up the Undead, and the Chosen Undead can only cover their face in shameful arousal.

\- Ever the silent one, hm?

Lautrec can see the Chosen Undead's dismay at the act being done to them. Yet, as always, they remain silent as if this is just another bar to overcome. But no, this is an impasse, and he wants nothing more than to absolutely break that silent composure.

Lautrec catches their sensitive buds between his fingers and lightly teases them, gouging their reaction. Their eyes widen and stare at him, and a light moisture glistens upon them. However, as if sensing his stare through his helm, they tightly close their eyes as he continues to worry their nipples.

Oh, that won't do.

So the man finally lifts his own helm, just to free his mouth, and leans down. His lips ghost their exposed neck, and he relishes the momentary voiceless struggle the Undead puts up as he bites down upon their throat. At that, the Undead opens their eyes again and they grunt harshly, choking back a whimper at the sudden spike of pain. At the same time they realise the man's black hair is brushing against their cheek and blushes at the intimacy. Lautrec still wants more however. And now licks the abused flesh -he dimly registers the lack of blood and is quite disappointed by it- and suckles on it, wondering if the mark would stay when they go back- and he desperately hopes it does-

And the sensation, it finally becomes too much for the poor Undead to handle, so they finally moan - a really loud, sexual moan, that makes Lautrec's cock twitch with delight and his hair stand on end.

Soon, the knight's tongue is upon their lips. Distantly, Lautrec realises this might be a bad idea. Probably because there's no guarantee the Undead won't bite.

Yet he does so anyway, and the man's tongue swipes the other's lips, and pushes lightly, as if asking for passage. And the Undead, almost lets him. They are so close to giving in.

They almost let the man claim their mouth. They almost let the man fuck them then and there. Almost.

Almost.

Instead they think upon a timid girl locked behind a metal bar and a warm warrior they laid with a only a few days ago.

And it almost feels like betrayal.

So, in a sudden surge, the Chosen Undead pushes the man off their body and instead it is now the Carim Knight who is under them. They place their ass on the man's hips so that he cannot lift himself and positions their legs so that his arms are trapped beneath them as well. Exasperated at the sudden turn of events, Lautrec looks up at the Undead. However the Undead does not grant him that mercy as they use one of their hands to grab the Carim Knight's head over his eyes, squeezing harshly. A wordless threat. The man immediately stops his struggle at that. Grimly Lautrec realises that if they now decide to beat him to a pulp for what he did well... he's done for. Curses.

He is determined however, so he thinks, he thinks desperately for a way out, before the Undead makes their decision and finally put an end to his sorry life.

  
The Chosen Undead is lost, however. They know how invasions work. The invader invades the host and tries to kill them and the host tries to vanquish the invading spirit. The invader must fulfil their duty by killing the host or die trying.

Nonetheless, neither ideas appealed to them. But the girl... They were a spirit of vengeance, they should... but Lautrec would eventually die by the hands of some other vengeful spirit anyway so why not them? Why not be the one to hold his dying breath. To drink upon the final-

\- Perhaps we can talk this out?

The Carim Knight said smoothly. The slight tremble and quirking of his lips belied his unease though. This close, the Undead could easily see everything about the Guilty knight. He was handsome, not in a conventional way like Solaire was, but he had ragged edge to him that appealed greatly to the Undead. Such luscious lips...

\- No need for violence... I'll give you the girl's soul, so take it and be on your way.

The Chosen Undead's other hand starts to wander along Lautrec's armour. Lautrec chokes at the sudden touch. He wonders if his circumstances didn't turn as sour as he thought after all.

\- I... hm, would that be a yes?

Lautrec knows he's in no position to wager, but he'll try whatever he can. The hands pause then, and after some thought, the Chosen Undead silently nods, but then realising the man's eyes are covered, quietly hums in agreement. Gods, silent again, are we? Well at least he now knew how their moans sounded like, Lautrec thought perversely. He's probably going to use that later.

-

The Chosen Undead puts away their prize and sighs in relief. So he didn't use it...

With their main goal achieved, the Chosen Undead's eye again fixates on Lautrec, a storm of emotions still brewing within them. Confusion, betrayal, sadness...

But most prominently, intense Lust.

For they still want.

They should release him, and leave his world now. If his words are true, and they can revive the Firekeeper with this soul, there's no reason to harm him any longer.

But...

The Chosen Undead swallows down the lump forming in their throat, and speaks to Lautrec in what seems like forever, hoping to the Gods that their voice do not come out as shaky as they feel.

\- Perhaps.

Lautrec perks up at the sound of their voice.

\- A little something... for being so kind as to returning this to me.

They say, as they carefully put away the Firekeeper soul within their satchels. The Undead shivers at the sheer depravity of what they are about to do.

\- A bit of... relief.

They shift their hips, deliberately grinding their ass against the entrapped knight's groin. The knight moans at the sudden move, the much welcome friction making him see stars beneath his covered eye lids.

\- ...Promise to stay still?

The Undead asks, suddenly unsure. And really, what's the point in asking? Lautrec is not exactly the epitome of trustworthiness.

However, the knight fervently nods at that, absolutely desperate for some kind of relief. The confines of his armour feel absolutely torturous now with what the Chosen Undead had just done.

Taking that as a good sign, the Chosen Undead carefully shifts their body so that the Carim Knight's hands are now free to move. They watch carefully, making sure they won't be taken down forcefully for insulting the Guilty Knight as much as they already have. The knight makes no move however, eagerly awaiting what the Undead intends to do. He will not ruin this now when the Undead clearly wanted the same thing as he did, albeit little differently.

The Undead moves then, and Lautrec realises their hand no longer blocks his sight and threatens to squeeze his head to a pulp at a moment's notice. He relaxes considerably at the thought. The Chosen Undead does not look back at him as he lustfully stares after them, as they are now descending upon his trousers, fiddling with its laces with intense concentration. Lautrec groans at the sight. Gods, he hoped this wasn't one of his depraved imaginations again. Or at least let him wake after he's had his release, for now he was fucking aching with how hard he was.

A few seconds later, Lautrec sighs blissfully as their deft fingers finally release Lautrec's aching member from his briefs.

The knight sports quite a package, the Chosen Undead notes hungrily. When he is released, his cock is already fully hard with a bead of precum forming at the tip. The Undead is absolutely enamoured, practically drooling at the sight. And that's exactly what the knight sees when he glances at the Undead to gouge their reaction, and the Chosen Undead's enthusiasm goes straight to his cock, making it twitch before the Undead's eyes.

Lautrec grunts, he needs something- anything- now! Forcing his voice to even, he growled at the Undead,

\- Well, what is it?

The Undead's eyes sparkle mischievously at that- gods, he loved that face, he hopes that he'll see more of that- and their tongue flickers out momentarily, wetting their lips in preparation for what they are about to do.

Slowly, their mouth engulfs Lautrec, bit by bit. The Knight groans; his heart is beating rapidly, and he feels light headed, as if all the blood in his vein is flowing to a single point in his body.

It is a slow process, the Undead inching down Lautrec's length oh so slowly, making it just as wonderful as it is torturous. The Undead tries their best to swallow the engorged member, despite their throat protesting at the intrusion.

Their hands do not rest however, as one encircles the base of the Carim Knight's cock and caresses its sensitive underside teasingly, and the other fondles his sensitive balls, making the knight's eyes roll back in pleasure.

The Chosen Undead continues to push their way down, but suddenly, they feel it is too much, the cock pulsing against their throat- so they pull back momentarily, gasping harshly around the member. They swipe their tongue against the tip, licking up another trickle of precum which forms upon it.

Damn it, they can't swallow him whole for the life of them.

They mouth the knight's cock again, not trying to swallow just yet. They almost gagged last time and they don't want to put him off with that. The Undead loves him too much to face that disappointment. The knight grunts and moans again- gods, they loved that sound- and reflexively, he moves, fisting his hands into their hair, and pulling just so- making them moan around his arousal.

\- Ah, you...!

The knight sputters another curse, as he painfully holds his release. He wants to enjoy this moment a bit longer, but the Undead so happily moaning around his cock is not helping him. And he doesn't want to disappoint them by cumming so soon- he's more collected than that- but damn they are good, and he is coming undone fast.

The knight's hand which lays on their head is all too welcome, as it is steadfast, neither pushing them in nor pulling them off. Still eager to see how the Undead will play this off.

Guided by that hand, the Undead tries swallowing again, and their eyes water at how their throat constricts around the man's member, but oh so slowly, they dip further and further in until they succeed, finally nuzzling their face against the man's groin. They take in the musky scent of the battle-hardened knight, the smell of blood, metal, and arousal dances upon their nostrils, and they themselves may have just cum from that just then and there.

The Carim Knight moans harshly, and his touch now turns bruising upon their scalp, and suddenly they pull them off- and the Undead is undeniably confused and worried- did they do something wrong?- before he snaps his hip, slamming into their throat again. The Undead's eyes roll back, and their body absolutely aches with arousal from the rough treatment. The Chosen Undead grasps Lautrec's round and muscled buttocks, and encourages him with a throaty moan around his member. Lautrec practically growls at that and he fucks harshly into the Undead's willing mouth, his climax coming in fast, and all too soon, he spills within the Undead with a moan. The Undead tries to swallow as much as they can but it is difficult, they aren't the most experienced with these kinds of things.

After another few shallow thrusts, the Carim Knight releases the hold upon their dishevelled hair, and the Undead finally pulls off of his softening cock. A bit of cum inevitably escapes and flows down their aching mouth, and Lautrec groans at the sight. Their pupils still blown wide, cum dripping down their chin, and breathing heavily from the fucking they took, the Undead looks absolutely debauched. Lautrec hums in content, blissful afterglow now settling in his body.

The Undead feels light-headed. Dizzily, they entertain the thought of just laying there next to him and resting for a while ('resting', more like cuddling...) but, let's not forget, this is just a 'little thanks' to the Carim Knight for giving the Firekeeper's soul to them.

They shouldn't overstay their welcome.

The Chosen Undead rises up. Damn, their legs feel shaky. The Carim Knight looks at them puzzlingly. Surely they need some relief as well...? He was willing to try, if it is for the Undead.

The Chosen Undead only walks away however, and picks up their armour and weaponry. And a momentary panic sets in Lautrec's heart. Oh gods no, were they one of those types of...! He is about rise and reach for his own weapon when the Undead shifts through their satchel to procure a black crystal.

\- ...Farewell, Lautrec.

And with a pulse of black light, they are gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went fucking ham on this chapter lmao  
> I'm pretty sure its about twice as longer than the other ones... lol...
> 
> Anyway Lautrec momentarily thought Chosen Undead were the 'black widow' types... you know the one... yeah.
> 
> This is my first time writing a explicit oral sex scene :s  
> I hope I did okay!
> 
> Stalkering intensifies...


	6. Searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An undead's search for purpose never ends.

It was a particularly brutal invasion.

As always, Lautrec had used a cracked red eye orb to collect some humanity from another world. He wished the thing wouldn't vanish on use considering it is such an easy and risk free way of getting humanity. He liked his invasion done safe, (or dirty, as some would call it) waiting until the host is low on health or fighting hordes of other strong beings, and then silently sneaking up on them from behind to overwhelm them in a single blow. Showing no mercy. The usual shtick.

Fate was not kind to him however, and lo and behold, he rises in middle of three fucking summons and the host is right there.

Fuck his life.

 

Groggily, he rises back up from the recent summon. Gods damn it, he is definitely going to try that himself sometime! _And he did, but only much later. This took place even before the Undead rang the second bell of awakening after all._

Then, seeking a brief respite, he searches for a safe spot to pray to Fina, only for a horde of hollows to waddle by just then. Lautrec of course gets targeted, and he is drenched in stale hollow blood by the end of it.

Finally alone, he kneels and prays desperately, searching for something- anything- but no sign of her love is shone. Fina has not answered his prayers for some time, Lautrec thought grimly. But she will answer soon, he desperately hopes, and most certainly believes she will. Faith belies all reason indeed.

But to top it all off, just when Lautrec is done, a fucking Black Knight wanders by. The damn monster decides to beat the shit out of Lautrec, probably just for the fun of it. Today was not a good day for Lautrec the Embraced.

That's where the Chosen Undead finds him. Or more so, rescues him by shoving their blade through the black knight from behind.

-

Strangely enough, they didn't laugh.

They only stared on at him in that terribly bleak way, their sword still raised and dirtied with blood and ash. Exhausted, the Carim Knight collapsed onto the ground, naturally sitting into his signature resting pose, however he leans heavily onto his left leg, all too tired from the ordeal. The silence stretches on for a few seconds, where the Undead seemingly just stands and stares at the heavily-breathing Carim Knight for a while.

_They were worried, so terribly worried, their mind went blank at the sheer amount of blood on the knight and thought they were too late and could do nothing but **stare** -_

And in that moment, Lautrec surely thought in any second now, they would just turn and walk away, as they did after freeing him from his cell. And that would be that. They've already done more for him then all the undead in this cursed land combined.

Instead they drop their sword, and kneel down. Lautrec peers above his arm to find them palming through their satchels to find- a humanity?

They stride over to him, and before he even has the time to protest, they manhandle the humanity into his hand and makes him pop it. Lautrec groans as he feels his wounds forcefully close and heal, newly found strength flowing through him.

Dumbfounded, he looks up at the now rising Undead.

\- What in- why did you-?

And before he even finishes the sentence, they are gone.

And the Knight of Carim, loathe as he is, is enraptured by that fickle nature, like a moth to a flame.

 

 

\---

 

 

Lautrec searched.

Perhaps he was looking for the Undead. Perhaps he was looking for his Goddess. Perhaps he was looking for an answer to a question even he did not know.

The City of Gods was empty save for the Cathedral in the centre of the city, where the last remaining Goddess and the silver knights resided.

Lautrec sat at the bonfire hidden away within the tiny room within the Cathedral. And quietly, he clenched his fist, hardening his resolve.

-

The two Knights of the Cathedral defeated at last, Lautrec makes way to the chamber of the Goddess Gwynevere.

He doesn't remember when Fina stopped answering his prayers. Lautrec grimly accuses that she left in association with his first encounter with the Undead, but in truth, it was probably long before he even met the Undead.

It's just that the thoughts of her demise or disappearance was very silently quelled after he met the Undead. His undeniable interest in them -whether it was lust or something else he was not sure- quenching his thirst for her fickle love.

But the thirst was still there. If anything, it had become more stronger ever since his last encounter with the Undead- after the Undead invaded him. 

So he will ask audience with his Goddess Fina through Gwynevere. She must know where she is, yes? Fina will be happy with how much humanity he has collected for her. Surely.

Surely.

 

-

 

The darkened halls of Anor Londo is haunting even to the bravest of warriors, but it fazed the Carim Knight none, for his mind was too addled with despair.

After listening to Gwynevere's whole spiel about the 'Fate of the Undead' and their task to linking the fire, he asked her for Fina's whereabouts. However she only stared calmly into him and stated he may learn of it at the end of his journey, after 'his' quest is complete. And that the linking the fire was of more importance.

Absolute bullshit.

She didn't know shit. He was a Knight of Carim. And as such they dedicate their whole lives to serving a single being, whether it be a maiden or a Goddess. This 'Fate of the Undead' shit was nothing to him. She... Gwynevere didn't know where Fina was! Then that means...

...So he killed her.

And maybe, from an angry Moon God, he learned of the Gods abandoning the City and the humans which served them alike in favour of a new home.

And maybe, he may have collapsed down in a corner of the upper part of the Cathedral, and considered letting everything end just then and there.

To lose his sanity and go hollow.

And maybe he did.

Maybe.

But only in another time.

 

Instead, he rises, and searches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a bit of explanation to Lautrec's obsession with the Undead :P  
> I took some liberties with the game settings like they had to go through the City before reaching the Cathedral, and a bit of headcanon on my part that Lautrec dies where he does because he found out the Gods including Fina have all abandoned Anor Londo as well as the humans in this land.  
> Absolutely not canon though!
> 
> Comments and kudos always welcome :D


	7. Still searching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And the search goes on.

The Chosen Undead plopped next to the bonfire in Firelink Shrine, now burning brightly again.

The Undead sighed heavily, hugging their legs and burying their face beneath their arms. They were so, so tired. They numbly lifted their head and peered around the bonfire. It was quite lonely here now. The Crestfallen Warrior had disappeared not too long after Frampt showed up. Logan followed by Griggs had journeyed off to the Grand Archives not long ago. Laurentius has left in search of chaos pyromancy down below and Solaire barely ever visits the shrine so he's usually out of the picture. Same for Siegmeyer. As for Lautrec... well... They try not to think about it. It was complex, to say the least.

The Chosen Undead themselves weren't sure they completely forgave Lautrec to be honest. Their lust kind of gotten the better of them at the time. Part of them was sure Lautrec would saunter down to the Shrine any moment and take the Firekeeper's soul again out of spite. They did force themselves on him, no? At least that's how the Undead remembered it...

Ah... No point in thinking. Time to get back to work.

 

-

 

They meet Patches again. After the kick down the cliff they received before, the Chosen Undead was pretty dead set on getting some kind of recompense for it. Sure they saved Rhea of Thorolund thanks to it, but still!

...The Chosen Undead glared at the back-stabbing merchant as they pocketed the twin humanity the man gave them. Really, the moment he goes hollow, they'll be the first to cut him to ribbons! The Chosen Undead swore as they angrily sauntered off to collect the Lord Soul of Gravelord Nito.

Meanwhile, Patches thinks its kind of amiable how they decided to let him live despite being as angry as they are at him. That doesn't happen often.

...They'll make a great customer!

 

-

 

Patches is a simple man, yes, he may have done some bad things, but someone had to punish the greed of men! He may have profited a bit off of it, but still! Really, he wasn't sure what he could have done to warrant the predicament he is in.

\- Woah now... Come on, friend! Let's talk this out shall we?

Patches peered down the cliff behind him. He sincerely hoped that his weapon might have gotten stuck in a crevice somewhere he can reach, but alas, it is definitely gone. Oh, and er, quite the drop. No way he's jumping down this way. Curses!

\- Kehehe, you don't really think you can talk your way out of this one, do you?

Lautrec laughed darkly as he closed in on the entrapped merchant. Very much menacing and very much blood-thirstyly.

Okay, think Patches! How can you get out of this situation? Why the hell would the complete fanatic such as Lautrec the Embraced be even doing down here in the catacombs? He's never come to this place and didn't seem keen to! He must be looking for something... or someone...? Someone... someone that's come here... someone that this mad knight could be looking for... someone like...

\- Wait, wait! Are you looking for them? The Chosen Undead that is!

The Carim Knight pauses for a second, and his shotel momentarily shifted uneasily. O-kay. Lautrec the madman, uneasy? Patches must be seeing things. Whatever. At least he hit the jackpot.

\- Look, look! I'll tell you exactly where they went! Just let me go this time, please.

Patches pleaded uncertainly. Gods help him, he'll truly reconsider his life choices if he can survive this. _(In actuality no, no he didn't.)_

-

\- Toodles, good luck with whatever you're up to down there! Ah hah hah!

Patches said as he quickly distanced himself from the Crazy Knight. Patches sadly thought back on the nice lad that merrily trotted down to the Gravelord's tomb (now soon to be their tomb) not too long ago. Patches pitied the sorry soul. He really did. They would have made such a nice customer too. Alas, if someone was going to be killed by that madman it certainly wasn't going to be Patches.

...What's that sound behind him?

Patches creakily turned his lantern.

.... 

Fucking skeletons.

 

-

 

Thou art mistaken in thy quest, if thou think'st thine act is truly in the good of thy kind.

 

What the hell did that mean?

The Chosen Undead thought anxiously. The final words of Gravelord Nito absolutely baffled them. Does he mean that linking the flame won't end the undead curse? Or that ending the curse of the undead is a bad thing? Considering he is the First of the Dead, maybe more undead in the land is a good thing for him thus was trying to stop them? What did he mean?!

As always, so many questions, none to answer them.

 

-

 

When Lautrec finally reaches the barren tomb of the Gravelord Nito, they are long gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a slow chapter... just making Lautrec frustrated mwahaha >:)
> 
> This is the end for this part. Next part onwards has some character death in it. If you don't like even a teensy bit of heartbreak, I guess the next part is jot for you :P
> 
> That said, thanks for reading, kind readers! May the flames guide your way!

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback welcome :D  
> Why do I always start new fics? Lmao... I'm so fucked.
> 
> Chosen Undead is male using they pronouns btw :p


End file.
